


A Problem That You'll Understand

by amethystfox



Series: I Could Live a Little More [5]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Juanito is not a morning person, POV: Winksy, Pining, Poor Juan, Poor Winksy, Post-Match, Secret Crush, Sunshine Squad, Sweet bbys, This may be the fluffiest thing I've ever written, Unrequited Crush, precious Juan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22679953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystfox/pseuds/amethystfox
Summary: November 2017Harry thinks he understands what Juan is going through.
Relationships: Harry Winks & Juan Foyth
Series: I Could Live a Little More [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621807
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	A Problem That You'll Understand

**Author's Note:**

> As always with my Spursfics, I use some non-English dialogue whenever one or more characters are non-native English speakers. Translations can be found at the end.
> 
> I've got a number of these little flashbacks planned to go along with the main Jan/Paulo narrative of I Could Live a Little More. They'll be included in the same series but tagged with (Flashbacks) to avoid confusion.

5 November 2017  
Wembley Stadium, London

  
  


Harry Winks slouched down onto his seat, his shoulders sagging. He hated having to come off so early in a game; pretty much all footballers did. It was only a stupid turned ankle, after all. He hated having to admit that he couldn’t continue, hated the galling feeling that the commentators were probably all talking about how tiny little Harry Winks had to be sent off to have his mum put a plaster on his ankle, but it would be okay because now Spurs could bring in a real man like Mousa Dembélé. He even hated the way Poch had patted him on the shoulder as he was helped back to the box. He knew it was meant to show him that the gaffer still had affection and confidence in him, but it felt patronising. He knew he wasn’t being all that rational at the moment, but he always had to sit and have a sulk when he had to come out of a game like this, barely a minute into the second half.

He pulled on his training jacket and brooded to himself in silence for a few minutes, staring out at the pitch without actually seeing anything at all.

“Harry?” 

He blinked and looked around. He didn’t immediately recognise the voice-- it was soft and hesitant, coloured with an accent that marked the speaker as one of the Spanish boys. Sure enough, Juan Foyth had moved to an adjacent seat, and was now offering him a bottle of water.

“Cheers.” Harry took the water and tried to summon up a smile. Foyth was one of Tottenham’s new summer signings, barely out of his academy back in Argentina, and he was even younger than Harry.  _ Not that he looks it, _ Harry thought enviously. The blond young defender was a good ten centimetres taller than Harry. Likely nobody ever mistook  _ him _ for a little boy.

“Are you okay?”

Harry took a swig of water and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, mate. I’ll be fine. Just hate havin to come off, y’know?”

Foyth nodded. “Is never fun, not getting the chance to play.”

Harry felt a twinge of guilt. Foyth hadn’t gotten to make his debut for Spurs yet, and there was no telling how long he might have to wait for it. At least Harry had gotten to start today.

“S’truth. We’ll both get more chances ‘fore long though, count on it.” 

Juan grinned at him, and Harry found himself smiling genuinely in return. Juan had a remarkably sweet smile, given how serious he looked most of the time.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few more minutes, watching the game. Harry knew Foyth didn't have a lot of English yet, though it was obvious that he was working hard to change that.  _ Maybe I ought to try to pick up another language, _ he thought absently. It’d be nice to be able to chat more to some of the guys who weren’t native English speakers-- they tended to stay pretty quiet until they got over the linguistic barrier, which struck Harry as pretty unfair. 

But then, the main use of him learning another language would pretty much always be if he transferred to a foreign club, and as far as Harry was concerned that was never going to happen. He had come up through the Tottenham youth academy and planned to stay at Tottenham until he had to retire, and hopefully stay on after that on the coaching staff. He wanted to be like Ledley King.  _ This is my one and only club. _

Harry was suddenly jolted out of his reverie by a massive cheer breaking out in the stands-- apparently someone had managed to find the net. It was the first score of the game and had come late, so Harry had almost started to pessimistically assume that they’d end up shut out. 

Next to him Foyth leapt off his seat, cheering madly. Harry wished he could do the same, but was under strict orders to stay off his ankle for now. Instead he just screamed and clapped his hands and pumped his fist as hard as he could.

_ “First goal of the match, scored for Spurs in the sixty-fourth minute by number seven, Heung-Min Son!” _ echoed around the stadium as the bench began to settle back down. The fans roared for Sonny, and Harry felt a twinge of jealousy. He scored occasionally, but that wasn’t his primary job. Central midfield was just as important as goalscoring, of course; it just wasn’t always quite as exciting.

“Wish I was still out there,” he muttered, watching the squad mobbing Sonny to celebrate.

“Is same for me,” Juan said. “I am happy for Paulo, though.”

Harry glanced over to the other end of the pitch, where he could just make out Paulo Gazzaniga in their goal. The towering Argentinian had been another summer signing, a third-choice goalkeeper to provide backup for their top two keepers, Hugo Lloris and Michel Vorm. No one had expected him to get his debut this soon, but with Hugo injured and Mich sick, Paulo had had to step up.

He’d been amazing so far, too, making some really beautiful saves. Harry had to agree with Juan-- he was happy for Paulo too.

He was just turning his head to say so when he noticed Juan’s face. He was staring across the pitch at Gazzaniga too, but with a far softer, more vulnerable expression in his eyes than Harry would have expected. Harry knew that Juan and Paulo were friends, of course; it was only to be expected, they were from the same country and had come to Spurs in the same window. But Juan wasn’t looking at Paulo, barely visible at the far end of the pitch, like Harry looked at his friends that he was happy for. 

He averted his eyes before Juan could see that Harry had been watching him. An odd shiver of sympathy ran through him as it occurred to him that he might understand the way Juan was looking at Paulo better than most.  His gaze drifted across the pitch until he spotted a familiar figure, too far away to be instantly identifiable to most, but Harry had long since learned to pick out the tiny details of movement and carriage, details that enabled him to recognise Jan Vertonghen even across the length of the pitch.

Harry had spent a lot of time watching the Belgian centre back, absorbed in watching him move, speak, play. For a long time he had told himself that it was just that he looked up to Jan, that he just admired his skill and experience.

Eventually, though, he had had to admit to himself that it was more than that. He looked up to and admired the other veteran players on the team too, but he didn't watch them the way he did Jan. He didn't follow Hugo with his eyes every time he came in the room. He didn't make up excuses to sit closer to Harry Kane in the canteen or on the coach. His heart didn't beat faster when Mousa Dembélé came into the room. He didn't get butterflies in his stomach around Christian Eriksen.

Admitting to himself that he in fact had a massive crush on Jan was one of the hardest things he had ever done. The thought of letting anyone else find out made his stomach clench. But seeing Juan look at Paulo like that, oddly, made him feel a bit better. If he was right about this, maybe he wasn't as alone as he had thought.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The rest of the game passed relatively uneventfully. Paulo kept a clean sheet, so the final score ended up being 1-0. Harry kept half an eye on Juan, watching him watch Paulo. He was fairly confident of his hypothesis by the time the final whistle sounded. Juan had stayed quiet for the remainder of the game, but his eyes seemed to never leave Paulo.

"Not too bad, eh?" Winks said brightly as they were gathering up their things, ready to head back down to the changing rooms.

Juan nodded absently, not really paying any attention to Harry. He kept glancing over his shoulder, following Paulo's progress toward them.

"Hey." Harry elbowed him, laughing when Juan blinked at him in confusion. "Might want to cool it with that, eh?"

Juan's brow wrinkled. "Cool what?"

Harry had to giggle at him. "Them big moon eyes is what, mate."

He could tell right away they had run up against a language barrier. "Moon… eyes?" Juan asked, looking lost.

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just meant, you might wanna stop starin, 'less you don't mind him noticin?"

Juan blushed, his eyes flickering guiltily back at Paulo again, then down to the ground.

"Aw, chin up. Nothin to be embarrassed of."

"This is easy for you to say," Juan mumbled. "You have been here so long, they all know you, you know them. For me it is hard even to talk to people.”

Harry frowned. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s like, y’know. I still have times I get awkward and make a fool of myself.” He made a face. “More than I like to admit.”

Juan shook his head. “No, no. Is not the same.”

Harry twisted his mouth thoughtfully. “You got any plans this evenin, mate?”

Juan just shrugged.

Harry nodded firmly. “You do now. Come round mine, we’ll have some dinner and a chat, yeah?”

Juan looked surprised at that. “Why?” he said curiously.

It was Harry’s turn to shrug now. “Want to get to know you better, don’t I? Been meanin to anyhow, need to welcome you properly to the club. If tonight’s all right, that is.”

“I guess is fine,” Juan said, sounding bemused.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


To Harry’s surprise, Juan didn’t own his own car. When he asked why not, he shrugged. “Is easier. One less thing to worry me. I am used to trains, bus. Metro.”

“Huh.” Harry had never thought about owning a car as a source of worry before. To him, it was just part of being an adult, of being independent. His car was a reflection of his personality, to some degree. Juan’s lack of concern over it suggested a somewhat different approach to the world.

"No worries, mate, you can just ride with me," Harry said to Juan now. "We'll grab some grub on the way, I've not got much at mine."

"Okay."

They chatted lightly in the car. Harry was surprised at just how much English Juan had already gotten under his belt. He was also surprised at just how much he found himself liking him from the off. Of course, he'd always seemed like a decent chap, but this was the first time Harry had really heard him talking at any length.

He was learning more about the people who were important to him then about Juan himself, though. The young Argentine spoke about his girlfriend, his parents and sister, his friends back home. He talked about how much it helped having the other Spanish lads here at the club, how welcoming Coco in particular had been, how nice it was that the gaffer was also from Argentina. Conspicuously, he did not talk about Paulo.

But details about Juan himself were less forthcoming. Harry couldn't be sure if it was down to the shyness that was to be expected from such a young lad moving to a new club, a new country, a new  _ continent _ , or something more permanent in his character. Whatever the reason, it felt like a victory every time Harry managed to get Juan to say anything about himself.

Harry waited until they'd made it back to his place and stuffed themselves with chicken satay takeaway before showing his hand. He wiped his mouth with his paper napkin, balled it up, and neatly bounced it off of Juan's startled face, giggling at the look this earned him.

"Listen, mate," Harry said earnestly. "I didn't mean to make you feel awkward or nothin earlier, just want you to know that."

"It is fine," Juan said, but he was blushing.

"Cheers. But I also wanted to say, you're not alone. Not talkin 'bout like, physically alone. I just mean… well, I know what it's like."

"You know what… what is like?" Juan said, stumbling a bit over the words.

"C'mon, man, I saw the way you were lookin at him. D'you think you're the first kid ever to feel that way about an older player?"

Juan ducked his head so that Harry couldn't see his face. His ears were flushed pink, though. "I don't know what you mean."

"Juan. Mate. You really gonna try to tell me you  _ don't _ have a crush on Paulo the size of the stadium?"

Juan's mouth actually fell open at that. "A… crush? This is… love? You think I am in love with Paulo?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno about love. I just saw the way you looked at him, that's all."

Juan shook his head firmly. "No, no. I love Ariana."

"I'm not sayin you don't. A crush like that don't really have anythin to do with whether you already love someone else. It's just that feelin, the one where you wanna be around someone all the time, can't seem to think straight around them. Someone that's always on your mind."

"Ah," Juan said, understanding. "You mean  _ un flechazo?" _

"I dunno, mate. What's that one mean?"

"It is… to be hit with the arrow, I think is exact meaning. But it is also used to mean…" He sighed ruefully and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes.  _ "Sí, _ it is the way I feel for Paulo. It is not quite the same as love. But you are right. I cannot seem to stop thinking about him. I have… I have tried."

Juan's whole face was glowing with embarrassment now, and he didn't seem to be able to meet Harry's eyes.

"Hey." Harry grabbed another napkin, balled it up, and threw it at Juan's head again, grinning when Juan actually laughed. He had a soft, sweet laugh.

"None of that, now. Told you there's no need to be embarrassed, not with me. Told you, I know what it's like."

"You have had this feeling? For another player?"

Harry nodded, swallowing the sudden nervous flutter in his throat. "Yeah. I… yeah."

Juan tilted his head, studying Harry's eyes. "Can I ask more?" he said delicately.

"What the hell, sure. Not much point in secrets here, is there?"

"Then… who?"

Harry bit his lip for a moment, and finally admitted, "It's Jan. Jan Vertonghen."

Juan blinked, blue eyes wide with surprise. "I think you are better at hiding this than me. I could not tell."

Harry laughed. "Well, it helps that I've had five years to try to get a handle on it, I s'pose."

"Five  _ years?" _

"Yup. I was at the academy already when he came over from Ajax, and… well, like you said, innit? Like bein hit by an arrow."

"You were very young then, yes?"

"I was sixteen. Never any danger that Jan would've noticed me back then, though. Don't think he knew who I was at all until I started makin the first team. And even since then, well… I'm the entire team's kid brother, ain't I? No different with Jan."

Harry had been looking down at his hands during most of this conversation. When he dared to glance up, though, he was taken aback by how much sympathy he saw in Juan's gentle eyes.

_ "Tienes una… _ ah, I mean, do you have a girlfriend, or someone else to give your love to?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah. No time. Or…" He had to stop and laugh at himself. "Or at least that's always been the excuse I give out. Truth is, I've dated a bit here and there, but can't seem to find anyone I like half as much as Jan."

Juan made a soft noise of understanding. "I know what you mean. If I did not already know Ariana before I come here, I think it would be same for me."

"It just ain't fair, is it? We spend all this time with them, we play with them, travel with them, see them all the time. How the hell can we be expected to get over this when they're always there, being all cute and funny and… and just… perfect." 

He could see Jan in his mind's eye, could hear his voice in his ear. Jan grinning, teasing, laughing. Jan being all bossy on the pitch. Jan with his stoic tough guy mask on. Jan giggling at his own ridiculous jokes. Jan's eyes. His hair. His smile. His serious face, the one he showed in interviews. The face he made when he'd been caught in a prank. Jan yelling at him in training. Jan ruffling his hair in the changing room. Jan speaking Dutch. Jan singing pop songs in the showers, always off-key, never caring. 

Harry had to close his eyes and take a couple of deep breaths to steady himself.

Juan gently bumped Harry's shoulder with his own. "It is not fair, but this is how life is. It is good for us sometimes to not get what we want, no?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Reckon you're probably right about that."

"Come on," Juan said suddenly. "I see you have the Xbox? Let's play something, forget to be sad for a little while."

Harry laughed. "All right, but I warn you, ain't no way you'll be beatin me at Call of Duty."

Juan just smiled and shrugged.

  
  
  
***

Two hours later, Harry dropped the controller with a despairing groan. "Now that's just not fair," he complained. "I thought this was supposed to be cheerin me up? Fine way to cheer a chap up, innit."

Juan laughed, that soft, sweet chuckle that made it impossible for Harry to actually be mad. "I never said I would be letting you win. Life is not fair, yes?"

Harry scowled at him as ferociously as he could, which just made Juan giggle even more.

_ "Fine. _ I'll admit that you're way better than me at Xbox. Can we do something else now?" He was whining, but in reality he was having more fun than he had in a good while.

Juan shrugged. "What else do you want to do?"

"Dunno. We could watch something on Netflix, or see if there's anything good on YouTube, yeah?"

"Either is fine for me. You choose."

Harry ended up going with YouTube. They started off watching some funny gaming videos, but soon enough they came back to football, and soon they were cycling through clips from various matches from sides all over the world, bantering good-naturedly about the finer points of the action.

Harry was in the kitchen, getting them fresh drinks, when he heard the current video end, cutting to yet another annoying ad. “Hit the button, will you? Skip the ads.”

A moment later the ad cut off abruptly, replaced by an intro with some generic-sounding electric guitar music, then a soft voice saying, “Ah, yeah, I think the funniest thing is to play the bad guy.”

Harry almost dropped their beers in his scramble to hobble back to the living room. On the screen, a younger version of Jan was sat for an interview, wearing kit from the 14/15 season, if Harry was remembering correctly.

“So um, maybe the bad guy in the latest Batman movie.”

“What’s this?” Harry asked, surprised.

Juan looked up at him from where he had been absorbed in his phone. “Hmm? It was just doing the autoplay, why--?” He looked over at the screen and blinked. “Wait, this is Jan? From when is this?”

“Dunno, I’ve never seen this one before, though going by the kit I’d say 2014 or ‘15.”

They listened to Jan answer questions in the video, which was from an older feature on the Spurs YouTube channel. When Jan confessed to having to drag himself off the couch sometimes, Harry burst out laughing.

“Can’t believe I’ve never seen this. Jan the couch potato. Who knew?”

Juan grinned. “Is it nice couch, I wonder? He says yes.”

Harry laughed ruefully. “It is, actually, if it’s the same one. I’ve only been round his place a couple times, but yeah, good couch.”

They watched in silence for another minute, while on the screen Jan talked about what he would do with the power of invisibility.

“His eyes, they are very blue,” Juan said. “I didn’t notice before.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “Yeah, they are.”

The last question was about Jan’s biggest fear. Harry leaned in close, always interested to find out something new about Jan.

“Oh my… umm… must be mouses.” Jan giggled nervously and hid his face in his hands for a moment. “Even thinking of them! Yeah, mouses are the worst thing that can happen to me. Seeing a mouse makes me run.”

Harry and Juan looked at each other in shock for a heartbeat as the video ended, and then they collapsed in gales of laughter.

  
  
  
***

Harry woke up the following morning to find Juan curled up next to him, his long legs tucked up underneath Harry’s shorter ones. They were still on the floor, snuggled up in the nest of pillows and blankets they had made when they decided to watch every single silly YouTube video they could find of Jan and Paulo. They had ended up talking a good deal more about the things they each liked about the older men. Harry was fascinated by how little Juan seemed to actually care about Paulo’s rather obvious physical attractions. If Harry hadn’t been blinded by Jan, he may well have found himself with a crush on the handsome goalkeeper too.

But for Juan, it was all about the way Paulo made him feel-- noticed, even important, less alone. For him Paulo was a piece of home right here in London, someone he could turn to when he was homesick, someone older, more mature, more experienced, who nevertheless genuinely liked Juan.

Harry was a little envious of the connection they already seemed to share, if he was being honest. Jan was perfectly friendly to him, of course, but they weren’t close. Jan tended to stick with the older players more, especially the ones that he had known before coming to Spurs, like Toby, Christian, and Mousa. Harry spent most of his time with the younger lads, the English boys  _ (okay, mostly English, and one Welsh, _ he thought,  _ sorry, Ben). _ He wished that he and Jan had some sort of link, something that would let Harry be closer to him, even if it was only ever as a friend.

Harry yawned and stretched, nudging Juan, who awoke with a start. The look of complete confusion on his face made Harry laugh.

“We fell asleep on the floor,” he explained. “Slept right through the night.”

Juan kept blinking, completely disoriented.  _ “¿Que?” _

Harry frowned. “We were hanging out last night, yeah? We played Xbox and watched a bunch of stuff on YouTube. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh…” Juan gave an enormous yawn and rubbed his eyes.  _ “Sí, sí, yo recuerdo,” _ he mumbled. “I remember. We had a lot of talking too, yes?”

“Yup, lots of talkin. That was my favourite part, I think.”

“For me too.” Juan grinned back at him. 

It was strange, Harry reflected. Nothing had actually changed from this time yesterday. He still had an enormous crush on a man who would likely never see him as anything but a little brother. And yet he felt worlds better about it this morning.

Harry smiled at his new friend. Maybe, he thought, maybe sometimes talking about it with someone who understood was the only thing that could actually help. Maybe sometimes sharing something that felt so heavy was the only way to make it lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> un flechazo - a crush (though as Juan says, it literally refers to being hit with an arrow)  
> Tienes una - Do you have a  
> Que - What  
> Sí, sí, yo recuerdo - Yeah, yeah, I remember
> 
> I always love sneaking in details gleaned from various Spurs stuff on YouTube-- and in this case, an entire video! Jan's Spurs quiz from 2014 where he talks about being afraid of mouses can be found [here](https://youtu.be/5XJB8LB4snE). An example of Juan's precious, soft little laugh can be found [here](https://youtu.be/5boSMc6Tvxk) (especially at about 1:10).
> 
> As always, I am not going to claim to be fluent in Argentinian Spanish. If you spot a mistake, please let me know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the same moonlight waters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363623) by [modricistas (mincolla)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mincolla/pseuds/modricistas)




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